What I had better tell you is that I left the fane to the acclamations of the assembled dignitaries (except for Count Rappaport and a couple of other spoilsports) and to the absolute indifference of the people of Peshkepiia. Sooner or later, I thought, I would have to learn more about these turbulent people I now ruled. And they would have to learn more about me, too. Once they did, how could they help but love me?

Guards stood outside the palace-the royal palace, now. People stood in the street staring at the palace. This I took for a good sign; no one had paid any attention to it before. Only one reason for the change sprang to mind.

“The treasury is here?” I asked Essad Pasha.

“But of course, your Highness,” he answered. Max coughed significantly. Essad Pasha thought it was significant, anyhow, and thought he knew the significance. “But of course, your Majesty,” he amended.

One of the basic rules in performing is that anyone of your own sex who calls you darling hates you. Anyone of any sex who says but of course is likely to be lying through his-or even her-teeth. Somehow, I didn’t think statecraft was all that different. By Max’s eyebrow semaphore, neither did he.

“Let’s see it,” I said.

I waited to see what happened next. If Essad Pasha had being difficult in mind, he would tell the guards something interesting-something like, “Kill them,” for instance. In which case I would not only be the first King of Shqiperi but also very possibly the last, and certainly the one with the shortest reign. Not a set of records I really wanted to hold.

I told myself that, in the event of my sudden untimely demise, Essad Pasha’s departure from this life would be every bit as abrupt. I hoped Max was telling himself the same thing. You never know with Max till something happens-if it happens.

Was Essad Pasha making the same calculations from the other side, as it were? If he was, he made them in a hurry. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he said, and nodded to the guards.

Waiting inside was…Well, if it were a squad of crossbowmen, I wouldn’t be writing this reminiscence, for the puncture is mightier than the sword, and Max and I had only blades. But the Shqipetari butler or majordomo or whatever he was-flunky, I suppose, will do well enough-bowed low and cried, “Your Majesty!” in accented Hassocki.

The palace-my palace-was as perfect inside as out. Soft carpets lay on the floors. Some of the walls were plaster painted with scenes of the forest and the hunt. Some were tiled in floral patterns climbing gracefully to the ceiling. The beams up there were cedar; they would last forever, barring fire. The governor who’d built this place had simple tastes: nothing but the best.

“Here is the strongroom, your Majesty,” Essad Pasha said. It looked strong to me. It had more bars than a harbor district, more bolts than a linen mill, and more locks than all the salmon smokeries in Schlepsig. Essad Pasha produced a key ring and handed it to me. “The first opens the topmost lock.”

One after another, I undid them. One after another, Max opened the bolts and took down the bars. I pulled on the knob. The door silently swung open; the hinges gleamed with grease. Inside stood four stout chests. They were festooned with chains and more locks.

Without even looking at Essad Pasha, I held out my hand. Clank! He handed me another key ring, this one with even more angled and twisted brass on it than the other. He pointed to the chests to show in which order the keys opened the locks. I wasted no time testing them. They passed the test.

My heart pounding, I opened the first chest. It hadn’t moved when I shoved against it. I liked that. Silver is nice and heavy, gold even heavier. Up came the lid. “You see, Your Majesty?” Essad Pasha sounded smug.

I saw, all right. Piasters, leptas, thalers in silver and gold (the Dual Monarchy hasn’t minted gold thalers for a hundred years, but you find them everywhere in the Nekemte Peninsula), krams, dinars, livres also in silver and gold, shillings and florins, a fat silver shekel (with IN THE PROPHETS WE TRUST under the eagle), precious stones…I wanted to chortle like a miser over his fortune. I wanted to run my hands through the money for that sweet clinking-clanking sound. I wanted to jump in the chest and swim around.

Otto of Schlepsig would have, too, by Eliphalet’s strong right arm. Prince Halim Eddin, though-King Halim Eddin, I should say now-would have seen treasures of his own in Vyzance. Since I was supposed to be Halim Eddin, I couldn’t cackle like a laying hen, no matter how much I wanted to. I gave Essad Pasha what I hoped was a calm, serious nod. “I see, your Excellency,” I said…calmly, seriously.

“Examine the other chests, by all means,” Essad Pasha said. “You will see I have not cheated. North and south, east and west, treasure from the whole kingdom is here.”

Any time someone goes out of his way to tell you how honest he is, watch your wallet. I opened the other chests, one by one. Max stirred a couple of them to make sure the money and jewels weren’t hiding rocks or lumps of lead. They weren’t. I’d never seen so much-much-in one place before.

I glanced towards Essad Pasha. He was just a little tighter and tenser than he might have been. “This is very good, your Excellency,” I said. He relaxed, ever so slightly. If he hadn’t, I would have decided I was imagining things. But since he did, I casually asked, “And when do you plan to bring over the rest of it?”

He jerked. I might have stuck him in the rear with a pin. “How did you know?” he said hoarsely. “You showed me you were formidable, but how did you know?”

He wouldn’t have understood if I told him he reminded me of Dooger and Cark. Or if he did, that would have been worse. Dooger and Cark got as much pleasure from cheating a poor performer in their troupe (as if there were any other kind!) out of half a day’s pay as Essad Pasha did from hiding who could guess how much treasure. Essad Pasha got more money, though.

“Have I not lived in Vyzance?” I said, trying to sound indulgent and amused. “Have I not seen ministers? North and south, east and west, will ministers not try to line their own pockets when they can?” Then I wasn’t so amused any more. “This is all very well, as long as they realize the game has an end. We have come to the end, Essad Pasha. Bring the rest of the treasury here within the hour. If you hold out on me this time, your story will not have a happy ending.”

There was, I judged, at least an even-money (and money was indeed at the root of it) chance he could still order me killed and get away with it. Instead, he went to his knees and then to his belly, knocking his forehead on one of those elegant rugs. I’d intimidated him, all right. “Mercy, your Majesty!” he wailed with that wild tremolo only Hassocki can achieve. “Mercy! I meant no harm!”

Certainly not to yourself, I thought. “The sand flows through the glass, your Excellency,” I said. “I suggest you make haste.”

“Yes, your Majesty! Of course, your Majesty!” Essad Pasha was all but babbling.

I discovered I liked Yes, your Majesty! even better than Yes, your Highness! “Captain Yildirim!” I said.

“Yes, your Majesty?” Max said. Oh, I did like that!

“Please accompany his Excellency to the fortress and make sure everything goes smoothly when my soldiers bring the rest of the treasury back here,” I said. They were, in fact, Essad Pasha’s soldiers. But as long as I gave him no chance to remember that and do something about it, I was fine. (And, if the first King of Shqiperi came down with an acute case of loss of life not for being proved an impostor but for acting every inch a king, Essad Pasha would have a demon of a time finding anybody else to play the part. So I told myself, anyhow.)

Max saluted. A Hassocki drill sergeant would have screamed at him. Like any other critics, drill sergeants scream whether the performance rates screaming or not. Essad Pasha noticed nothing amiss, and he was the only audience that mattered. “Yes, your Majesty!” There! Max said it again!